Rainy Midwest spring quickly turns into muggy Midwest summer. What’s a climber to do? Road trip, of course! After some discussion and coordinating vacation plans, it is decided that Jeff and I will fly to Salt Lake City in the last week of July to join camhead for a week on his road trip.

There is so much climbing in Utah that sampling it all in one-week trip is, of course, impossible. Different locations and plans are thrown around, but in the end we decide that it would be a sport climbing trip, with Maple Canyon as the main destination.

Things start falling apart on Monday before the trip. Jeff is complaining of being unusually tired, but we chalk it up to too much time on zero-G treadmill. By Tuesday, the reality hits: treadmill is blameless, it’s a flu. Ever an optimist, I keep my fingers crossed and trust that by Friday he would be fine.

My optimism is sorely tested by a car battery dying the night before the flight. Packing? Errands? What errands? That’s what you get for leaving things until the last moment! The inside optimist reasserts herself by pointing out that at least it didn’t happen right as I was leaving for the airport. Things could always be worse… indeed! On Friday morning Jeff calls from work, sounding slightly better than death warmed over. “I don’t think I can go on this trip, I am really sick, I thought I was getting better, but I guess not!” SHIT!!! “You go without me”—yes, the selfish me likes hearing it, but not really. I suggest a big dose of ibuprophen and a nap, hoping that things would look better in couple hours.

In the end, Jeff decides that even though he feels like dying, he’d rather die in Utah, and I pick him up on the way to the airport. The skies HAVE to open up right as we are trying to park the car. I charitably offer to drop off Jeff in the covered spot by the shuttle, and park the car by myself. By the time I run from the car to the airport shuttle, I am drenched—I might have just as well jumped into the lake!

Other than dripping all over the shuttle seat, we get to the airport without incident, check in, and with an hour to spare decide to get something to eat, literally 100 yards away from the gate. Walking leisurely back to the gate, we notice that the area looks unusually empty. “We just closed the door”, the flight attendant informs me. WHAT?! But we still have 20 min before the take-off time, my cell phone says so. “Sorry, you have to go to the service desk and re-book”, says the clerk. There is no use arguing. Jeff just stands there, looking like he wants to be shot dead, right now, so I start towards the customer service. I am not sure whether it was Jeff’s pathetic look, or the fact that I didn’t argue and yell, but something thaws in the icy heart of the flight attendant, she picks up the phone, says something into it, and calls me, ”Hey, come back honey, we are getting the door for you, quick”.

The flights go without further problems. We successfully meet up with Paul, fit the three of us into his truck that doesn’t really fit three people, sort out the optimal limb position that don’t interfere with the clutch operation, and head out north, to Paul’s parents’ house. It should be said that Paul parents are wonderfully chill people who are completely unfazed by random people showing up at 1 a.m. The bed is already made, and sleep is very welcome.

“We don’t have to have an early start”, says Paul, as he wishes us good night, but I know better. By 8 a.m. everyone is already up, so we drag our sorry asses to the kitchen and meet Paul’s sister and a random friend of hers. Over breakfast of eggs and raisin walnut toast (supplemented with TheraFlu for still-sick-as-hell Jeff), it becomes clear that Jeff and Paul’s mom could spend quite a bit of time talking about English vs. Western saddles, and everything else horse-related, but Paul has a project to send, and morning shade is at premium, so we leave, supplied by Paul’s parents with everything from garden-fresh sugar snap peas to pillows. Paul’s mom tells him to send that climb finally —no more fail-face! Did I mention that they are awesome?

A short drive later, we arrive at “mile 385” crag of Logan Canyon. The name is a leftover from the old days. Apparent mile marker now is 472, but everyone still calls it 385. Great way to confuse the outsiders! Luckily, there is a very helpful information board at the trailhead.

Paul leads us up the “grueling” 30-second approach trail to the first warm-up, Hat Trick, 5.11b. He apparently decided that talking up his favorite local crag will inevitably result in disappointment, so he chooses the opposite strategy. “I don’t know if you would like it, it is a bit of a weird climb, could be tricky for you, and you aren’t used to limestone. But I’ll hang the draws”. The strategy works (and the hung draws are welcome). The climb is actually a very nice dihedral with interesting stemming and drop-knees. And limestone is not nearly as slippery as I was led to believe. Flashes all around, we move to the next climb.

Nuclear Fingers, 5.12a, is just to the right of Paul’s project, so he goes up first, and hangs some draws on Paleface on the way down. Then it is my turn to climb. I have a hard time not laughing when I hear, from 3/4th up the route, Paul’s anxious voice saying, “Wow, she is doing great, I don’t think she is hating it!” Damn right I don’t! It is tricky, and I hang a couple of times at the crux, but the moves are interesting and enjoyable. Apparently, I was supposed to hate it because it is vertical… I don’t know why everyone decided that I don’t like techy vertical climbing. I keep telling people, just because I didn’t like Smith Rock doesn’t mean that I only like overhanging jughauls, but they don’t listen.

Anyway, Paul’s project comes next. He TR soloed it cleanly several times a few days earlier. At this point Paul is the only one who is having doubts about sending it. Everyone else is convinced that he’s got it covered. And sure enough, Paleface, 5.13a, goes down smoothly and easily. No more fail-face! Paul is suddenly ready to call it a day (he has to send a celebratory spray-o-gram to Christina —it’s important!). Jeff is just ready to die, period.

I still want to climb, but Nuclear Fingers are rapidly moving into the sun zone, so we hike a short distance to another 5.11a called Goat Debris. Paul is still talking everything down: ”Oh, it has a really long move, I don’t know how you’d feel about it… I’ll hang the draws, just do your best, I think you can do it.” Duh, that is NOT a long move. A long move is when you can’t find alternative foot placements… Everything about it is fun, a lot of fun—except the anchor position and sun in the eyes at the top. After I come down, we call it a day.

The drive to Uintas, our destination for Sunday climbing, is couple hours long. We take our time, and stop to get celebratory raspberry shakes! (YUMMMM!!!!) The boost of sugar gives us the energy to do a bit of sightseeing. Water levels sure look high at the Bear Lake!

With daylight rapidly fading, we make it to Uintas, find a free campsite by the dirt road, set up the tent, and cook dinner. Paul decides on the menu: Salmon patties and mac-n-cheese, with fresh peas ad lib, served inside tortillas to keep the plates clean, with Siracha sauce, and beer to those who need it. It was really good, really!—but I chose not to wrap my salmon and pasta into the tortilla, and opted for extra helping of cherries and chocolate instead.

Could you wish for a more beautiful view when you get out of your tent in the morning?

The only things that are not showing up in this view are mosquitoes. But boy, oh boy, were they BIG. And thirsty. I guess when you camp in a meadow that was covered with snow just weeks ago, it is to be expected… We break camp and head up to our chosen crag for the day, Stone Gardens.

None of us knows anything about Uintas, but the guidebook gives us a definite indication that we want to go to Stone Gardens, home of the 5.12a called Sessions. How good is the climb? Well, the guidebook puts it like this: “One-star climb—O.K. if you are bored; two star climb—good one; 3 stars—definitely worth doing, area classic; 5 stars—Sessions!!!!” With a recommendation like this, of course we had to go there!

The uphill hike at 10,000ft makes us wheeze pitifully, but it’s a pretty mellow approach, all things considered. First climb of the day, Tortured Screams, 5.10b. Somehow I am the one hanging draws this time. It turns out to be really fun, and feels about 5.9. Quartzite feels almost like Nuttall sandstone of the New River Gorge. Here’s Paul climbing it:

Bolstered confidence takes me through another onsight, Here Today, Tomorrow and Next Week, 5.10d. This one feels about right for the grade, Jeff and Paul concur. Then I eat a humble pie on Laborious, 5.11b—more specifically, I bail, after barely getting off the ground, foiled by a long and bouldery move. Paul jumps on it next, feeling very cavalier about 5.11 “warm-up”, and pays the price by falling off on the same move. Lots of opportunities for jokes at Paul’s expense! He is now a 5.10 climber, by his own formula, his 5.13 send notwithstanding! But of course he sends it as soon as he decides to actually pay attention to the climb. Jeff surprises himself by flashing it, and retreats back into sick melancholy. His fever is finally breaking, but his nose is turning into a faucet, and altitude is not helping.

The rest of us are enjoying the altitude, the beautiful surroundings, and the solitude. Couple other climbers show up eventually. Remarkably, the guy knows Paul’s sister from pursuits unrelated to climbing, and somehow recognizes Paul. What are the chances?

Then it is finally time for SESSIONS! The overhanging wall is covered by a confusing array of bolts, shared starts, alternative starts, and at least one of the lines, as far as we can tell, not being listed in the guidebook. Paul initially stick clips the wrong one, but we sort things out, and he pulls the rope, leaving the draw hanging for later retrieval—a very lucky development, it turns out!

Of course Paul onsights Sessions. Did anyone doubt it? Not really. But he sounds like he is actually working on sending it. And I get a bad feeling in my stomach. It looks intimidating, and reachy, I don’t think I can do it. But the draws are hanging, and up I go… not very far. Clipping the 3rd (?) bolt, I am supposed to heel hook with the right heel, and lean out as far as possible to the left. I do—and my fingertips barely brush the draw. I start it swinging, and try to clip. But we didn’t hang a long draw, and the little draw is not swinging enough b/c of the rock being in the way. By the time I pull out the rope, the draw stops swinging. I try again, and fail. The ledge below me looks menacingly near. I am definitely hitting it if fall with the rope pulled out… The sidepull+heelhook feel very solid, I could hang out here forever, but it doesn’t get me any closer to clipping. And I don’t think I can reverse the moves and climb back to the draw below (ahem, sideways, not below), so if I fall, it is going to be a nasty swing, and I am not ready for it yet.

What to do? Fortunately, my eyes focus on that leftover draw that Paul initially hung on the wrong start. I think I can get to it! A bit more of sideways climbing allows me to retrieve the draw, clip it to the draw already in place on Sessions, and finally clip the rope to it. Wheeeewww! I haven’t been so relieved to hang on a draw in a long time. Lesson learned, having that one extra draw hanging on your harness is often helpful, even if you are sport climbing with pre-hung draws. And I almost always have one, but not this time. Oh well, all is well that ends well. I proceed bolt-to-bolt.

It really is an amazing climb, even if my right heel is complaining bitterly about heel-hooking the whole way up. But the bolting on it… ugh! When I finally make it to the anchors there is so much rope drag that I have to pull the rope with everything I’ve got.

Considering the rope drag, top-roping the climb in order to clean it does not look feasible. Instead, we use Jeff as an anchor, and Paul TR soloes with a gri-gri to clean. That seems much harder than actually onsighting the climb.

Tired, but not quite ready to call it a day, we get on another climb, Cries of Impending Doom, 5.11b, vertical climb with a well-defined crux consisting of yet another long move off of a gaston. Paul likes it, and I, predictably, cry and hate it. Then I look at Jeff and feel guilty, because he has a lot more reasons to hate life at the moment. At least I am climbing, instead of shivering from chills on a beautiful sunny day.

After hiking out, we head to Maple, stopping on the way in a small diner serving Mexican food. I don’t think it is anything special, but the waiters seem to be impressed by the way we wolf everything down. Amazingly, Paul manages to run into people he knows in this diner, too. Jeff quietly asks me if there is anyone in the entire state of Utah who DOESN’T know Paul. Then the conversation shifts to music and stays there for hours. Sandwiched in the truck between two music nerds, I feel completely out of place. Luckily, Paul periodicly breaks away from discussing obscure guitarists and switches into tour guide mode to point out landmarks. He is so engrossed in discussing the Mormon history that we miss the turn-off into Maple Canyon. A bit of driving around gets up back on track, and we eventually locate out campsite.

Everything about our camping spot is awesome, right down to a hummingbird feeder.

… everything, that is, except for the fact that the campsite next to us is occupied by two families with approximately 9 loud children. And the children are still up, even though it is long past dark, and the three of us are seriously considering bedtime. We surreptitiously check the dates on their camp-site. Whew, they will be leaving in the morning--that’s a relief! We can hold on for one night.

In the end, I am so tired that neither loud kids, nor Jeff’s faucet-y nose manage to keep me awake. I sleep better than ever, and wake up ready to go climbing.

Unlike me, the guys require a dose (or several) of the brown liquid containing caffeine to get going in the morning. Normally, that is not a problem. But this morning, Paul’s old trusty stove decides that it has served him faithfully long enough, and the regulator blows out—BEFORE Paul has a chance to get a dose of coffee. No hot water --> no coffee, and no way to get any. Can you appreciate how much of an emergency this is? Paul locates duct tape. It works for less than a minute, and then the gas is leaking again. Still no hot water! Next remedy is super-glue. But it takes time for it to dry! Watching the nervous twitch dance that Jeff and Paul perform in unison while waiting for the glue to dry is entertaining, in a maddening sort of way. After 30 minutes and several applications of superglue, they decide that wrapping the entire thing in duct tape on top of super-glue should work best. Amazingly, it does!

The repair patch works long enough to finally boil the water and get some caffeine into these poor guys. But it is pretty clear that a new stove is needed, so we head into Ephraim to visit local Wall-mart. While picking up a new stove, Paul is struck with an inspiration: solar shower! It is only $7 for a 5 gallon shower. Since we are in town already, we fill up our new shower (it looks very flimsy!) and a 6.5 gallon water jug, to save a trip later. By now it is pretty late, so we go back to the campsite, eat lunch, find the sunniest spot for our solar shower, and then finally head out to get some climbing.

At this point, it should be mentioned that the only guidebook we have is inside Paul’s head, and he hasn’t been to Maple in over 6 years. Still, after a minimal detour, we locate the Minimum crag. Paul confidently leads us to the far right. There is a warm-up 5.9, supposedly a very nice climb, perfect way to ease into cobblestone climbing. Rope bag is unrolled, harnesses on, Paul starts climbing. I walk around looking at routes, and suddenly locate a route to the right of where Paul is climbing. Hmmm… Paul said the one he was on was supposed to be the right-most. I turn to a nearby climber for help. “Oh yeah, that’s the 5.9,” he says, pointing at the route that I found. “What about this one?” I point out the climb that Paul is on. “That’s 5.11,” the guy says. I call out to Paul, “Hey, how’s the route going?” “Good,” he says. “Feels 5.9ish?” I ask. “Oh, yeah.” The guy gives me an “is-he-crazy” look and says, “Oh, he’ll find out why it is 5.11 at the top.” Paul doesn’t seem to find out anything of that sort, but does seem to find a lot of loose rock and sand.

I decide that I will lead the real 5.9 first, called Minienticer. I onsight it, but I am not in the least bit enticed. In fact, I have a sinking “oh-no!” feeling in my stomach. This arête feels very much like Smith Rock, only with much bigger pebbles imbedded in the “concrete”, and bolts barely an arms-length apart. The pebbles that aren’t broken off are slick with rubber and chalk, and I start wondering whether it would be possible to convince Jeff and Paul to head out elsewhere in Utah, because this in NOT FUN. Jeff seems to like the route more than I do, but he is still in the “my-life-is-miserable-and-not-worth-living” sick stage, so the enthusiasm is lacking all around. Paul looks at my disappointed face, and says, ”Oh, just wait, you have to climb the overhanging stuff to see what Maple is all about. “

Not convinced, I get on the 5.11 that Paul led first, thinking it was a 5.9. As far as I can find out, it goes under the name of “Project”in the old print-out guidebook. The bottom of this climb is awful. Every step up brings a shower of loose dirt, sand, and pebbles onto poor Jeff. Luckily, there is enough overhang at the start to make him safe from most of the debris. I keep climbing and thinking that this is not at all fun, and really doesn’t feel harder than 5.9. Then I get to the top “5.11” section—and I LIKE IT. For about 15 feet, the route actually does feel cool.

Somewhat more optimistic, I get on the next climb, Groundwork. The woman projecting it produces a print-out and tells me that it is 5.12b in the guidebook. Paul sends it and comes down shaking his head… fun for sure, but maybe 5.11c at most? Trusting Paul, I go up—flash! Did I just flash my first 5.12? Nah, as much as I want to claim it (Mountain Project gives it 5.12a), I have to agree with Paul, mid 5.11, but so much fun! All of a sudden, I like Maple.

The rest of the day goes quickly. Paul onsights Lunchables (another 5.12b/5.11d that I don’t like nearly as much as Paul does, but Jeff finds very pleasant), and flashes Spacelord, 5.12c/d. The flash comes with a bit of a drama. As Paul climbs, a large peanut gallery cheers him on and shouts beta. A few grunts and throws, and he is at the anchors. He reaches down for the rope and starts pulling it. ROCK!!!! Shit!!!! Paul goes flying, peanut gallery scatters, no one is harmed. Everyone present agrees that it was a flash for sure. Mean Christina on the phone tells Paul that it is not a flash, because he didn’t kiss the chains. She has an excuse for being mean, because she just wrecked her bike and broke a front wheel fork, her race is in just a few weeks, and I think she just wishes she were in Utah with us.

We take one rest day on the trip-Tuesday. For such a momentous occasion, we head to Ephraim to productively kill several hours surfing the internets in the library. Then Paul remembers that there is a greasy-spoon diner in Salina, and we head there for late lunch/early dinner, our only not-cooked-at-campsite splurge. The place is called—drumroll!!!—“Mom’s café”, and is indeed a very greasy spoon place. Jeff and Paul get chicken fried steak. I get liver and mashed potatoes. Jeff and I get a history lesson centered around the fact that scones in Utah are not the “normal” scones we are used to, but rather a big lump of fried dough that you eat with honey butter. They are indeed delicious, if you wolf them down while they are still hot. I make the mistake of letting half of my scone cool on the plate, and it loses the deliciousness with an alarming rate.

Eating only half the scone might be the reason why I still have the energy an hour later, while Jeff and Paul are passing out in food coma. We are back to Ephraim, killing time once again before the start of the “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” in the Ephraim movie theater (at least it HAS a movie theater!) I discover a plum tree—full of delicious ripe wild plums!—right by the library. You’d think they never picked fruit off the trees! The guys make so much fun of me that I give up plum picking with only a few dozens in my bag. In revenge, I eat my plus for the rest of the week, and let them have the mealy store-bought ones. They seem to think that they are the winners here…

Movie kills the rest of the day. Then it is time for bed.

Day 5 and beyond.

The rest of the week goes much the same. We stay to the crags Paul knows, climbing at Zen Garden, Minimum and Pipedream cave. As best as I can tell, we climb some 5.11s, and some 5.12s. The trouble is, I can’t tell you which ones are which. The old guidebook printout calls it one way, Mountain Project has another opinion that differs from RC.com grades, and I, if asked to arrange the climbs I did in order of difficulty, would call it differently from all of the three sources above.

Rock at Maple is rather shitty, and makes me appreciate the New and the Red even more. All routes look the same, and look really under-whelming in pictures.

Almost every day we climb, some small rock goes flying (this must be why Paul looks so scared in that photo above). At least the overhang on most routes makes the belayer safe, but the same can’t be said about the peanut gallery. In the Pipedream cave, everyone congregates deep inside the cave to keep their heads out of the rockfall zone…

Still, the weather just can’t be beat, the surroundings are spectacular, and the climbing itself is as much fun as swinging on monkey bars at a playground. Which is why, I guess, Maple is a summer destination of choice for so many sport climbers from the East and Midwest. Every time we walk up to a crag, it is all the familiar faces. “Hi, didn’t I run into you at the New a couple of months ago?” “Yep!” “Oh, I think we climbed together at the Red a couple of years back?” “Sure did!”

Pipe Dream cave feels just like Motherlode. Same crowd of climbers from all over the world projecting hard climbs 1 hr per attempt. Same pack of barking, yelping and fighting dogs getting underfoot. All that’s missing is a fist fight.

Here’s Paul projecting Sprout, 5.13a.

He actually came pretty close to sending it, with just one hang on his best attempt. Close, but… there is always next year!

too bad all those hanging draws make everything a pinkpoint and invalid.

sprout... proving that enough glue and chipping can make anything possible

Oh yeah, the horrible crime of pinkpointing! What else can you expect from people who go on a road trip with the most notorious spiritual criminal (aka camhead)?

Sorry, my sherpas were busy elsewhere with the gear, they seem to really like those Gunks 5.7s where pinkpointing is not tolerated. Without their help, I couldn't bother to carry all that metal to Utah.

Would you believe that all I've done in Utah is boulder? I'm pretty terrible at bouldering too, especially when I rolled through there way back when. I've got to get back there and on some routes sometime.

Would you believe that all I've done in Utah is boulder? I'm pretty terrible at bouldering too, especially when I rolled through there way back when. I've got to get back there and on some routes sometime.

Well, I just so happen not know a group of people planning a trip there next summer...

Would you believe that all I've done in Utah is boulder? I'm pretty terrible at bouldering too, especially when I rolled through there way back when. I've got to get back there and on some routes sometime.

Well, I just so happen not know a group of people planning a trip there next summer...

Would you believe that all I've done in Utah is boulder? I'm pretty terrible at bouldering too, especially when I rolled through there way back when. I've got to get back there and on some routes sometime.

Well, I just so happen not know a group of people planning a trip there next summer...

Would you believe that all I've done in Utah is boulder? I'm pretty terrible at bouldering too, especially when I rolled through there way back when. I've got to get back there and on some routes sometime.

Well, I just so happen not know a group of people planning a trip there next summer...